We left the stranger behind the curtain asleep——he enters now upon the stage.
—What dost thou prick up thy ears at?—’tis nothing but a man upon a horse——was the last word the stranger uttered to his mule. It was not proper then to tell the reader, that the mule took his master’s word for it; and without any more _ifs_ or _ands_, let the traveller and his horse pass by.
The traveller was hastening with all diligence to get to _Strasburg_ that night. What a fool am I, said the traveller to himself, when he had rode about a league farther, to think of getting into _Strasburg_ this night.—_Strasburg!_——the great _Strasburg!_——_Strasburg_, the capital of all _Alsatia!_ _Strasburg_, an imperial city! _Strasburg_, a sovereign state! _Strasburg_, garrisoned with five thousand of the best troops in all the world!—Alas! if I was at the gates of _Strasburg_ this moment, I could not gain admittance into it for a ducat—nay a ducat and half—’tis too much—better go back to the last inn I have passed——than lie I know not where——or give I know not what. The traveller, as he made these reflections in his mind, turned his horse’s head about, and three minutes after the stranger had been conducted into his chamber, he arrived at the same inn.
——We have bacon in the house, said the host, and bread——and till eleven o’clock this night had three eggs in it——but a stranger, who arrived an hour ago, has had them dressed into an omelet, and we have nothing.——
Alas! said the traveller, harassed as I am, I want nothing but a bed.——I have one as soft as is in _Alsatia_, said the host.
——The stranger, continued he, should have slept in it, for ’tis my best bed, but upon the score of his nose.——He has got a defluxion, said the traveller.——Not that I know, cried the host.——But ’tis a camp-bed, and _Jacinta_, said he, looking towards the maid, imagined there was not room in it to turn his nose in.——Why so? cried the traveller, starting back.—It is so long a nose, replied the host.——The traveller fixed his eyes upon _Jacinta_, then upon the ground—kneeled upon his right knee—had just got his hand laid upon his breast——Trifle not with my anxiety, said he rising up again.——’Tis no trifle, said _Jacinta_, ’tis the most glorious nose!——The traveller fell upon his knee again—laid his hand upon his breast—then, said he, looking up to heaven, thou hast conducted me to the end of my pilgrimage—’Tis _Diego._
The traveller was the brother of the _Julia_, so often invoked that night by the stranger as he rode from _Strasburg_ upon his mule; and was come, on her part, in quest of him. He had accompanied his sister from _Valadolid_ across the _Pyrenean_ mountains through _France_, and had many an entangled skein to wind off in pursuit of him through the many meanders and abrupt turnings of a lover’s thorny tracks.
——_Julia_ had sunk under it——and had not been able to go a step farther than to _Lyons_, where, with the many disquietudes of a tender heart, which all talk of——but few feel—she sicken’d, but had just strength to write a letter to _Diego_; and having conjured her brother never to see her face till he had found him out, and put the letter into his hands, _Julia_ took to her bed.
_Fernandez_ (for that was her brother’s name)——tho’ the camp-bed was as soft as any one in _Alsace_, yet he could not shut his eyes in it.——As soon as it was day he rose, and hearing _Diego_ was risen too, he entered his chamber, and discharged his sister’s commission.
The letter was as follows:
“Seig. DIEGO,
“Whether my suspicions of your nose were justly excited or not——’tis not now to inquire—it is enough I have not had firmness to put them to farther tryal.
“How could I know so little of myself, when I sent my _Duenna_ to forbid your coming more under my lattice? or how could I know so little of you, _Diego_, as to imagine you would not have staid one day in _Valadolid_ to have given ease to my doubts?—Was I to be abandoned, _Diego_, because I was deceived? or was it kind to take me at my word, whether my suspicions were just or no, and leave me, as you did, a prey to much uncertainty and sorrow?
“In what manner _Julia_ has resented this——my brother, when he puts this letter into your hands, will tell you; He will tell you in how few moments she repented of the rash message she had sent you——in what frantic haste she flew to her lattice, and how many days and nights together she leaned immoveably upon her elbow, looking through it towards the way which _Diego_ was wont to come.
“He will tell you, when she heard of your departure—how her spirits deserted her——how her heart sicken’d——how piteously she mourned——how low she hung her head. O _Diego!_ how many weary steps has my brother’s pity led me by the hand languishing to trace out yours; how far has desire carried me beyond strength——and how oft have I fainted by the way, and sunk into his arms, with only power to cry out—O my _Diego!_
“If the gentleness of your carriage has not belied your heart, you will fly to me, almost as fast as you fled from me—haste as you will——you will arrive but to see me expire.——’Tis a bitter draught, _Diego_, but oh! ’tis embittered still more by dying _un_———”
She could proceed no farther.
_Slawkenbergius_ supposes the word intended was unconvinced, but her strength would not enable her to finish her letter.
The heart of the courteous _Diego_ over-flowed as he read the letter——he ordered his mule forthwith and _Fernandez_’s horse to be saddled; and as no vent in prose is equal to that of poetry in such conflicts——chance, which as often directs us to remedies as to _diseases_, having thrown a piece of charcoal into the window——_Diego_ availed himself of it, and whilst the hostler was getting ready his mule, he eased his mind against the wall as follows.
O D E.
_Harsh and untuneful are the notes of love_,
_Unless my_ Julia _strikes the key_,
_Her hand alone can touch the part_,
_Whose dulcet movement charms the heart_,
_And governs all the man with sympathetick sway._
2d.
_O_ Julia!
The lines were very natural——for they were nothing at all to the purpose, says _Slawkenbergius_, and ’tis a pity there were no more of them; but whether it was that Seig. _Diego_ was slow in composing verses—or the hostler quick in saddling mules——is not averred; certain it was, that _Diego_’s mule and _Fernandez_’s horse were ready at the door of the inn, before _Diego_ was ready for his second stanza; so without staying to finish his ode, they both mounted, sallied forth, passed the _Rhine_, traversed _Alsace_, shaped their course towards _Lyons_, and before the _Strasburgers_ and the abbess of _Quedlingberg_ had set out on their cavalcade, had _Fernandez, Diego_, and his _Julia_, crossed the _Pyrenean_ mountains, and got safe to _Valadolid._
’Tis needless to inform the geographical reader, that when _Diego_ was in _Spain_, it was not possible to meet the courteous stranger in the _Frankfort_ road; it is enough to say, that of all restless desires, curiosity being the strongest——the _Strasburgers_ felt the full force of it; and that for three days and nights they were tossed to and fro in the _Frankfort_ road, with the tempestuous fury of this passion, before they could submit to return home.——When alas! an event was prepared for them, of all other, the most grievous that could befal a free people.
As this revolution of the _Strasburgers_ affairs is often spoken of, and little understood, I will, in ten words, says _Slawkenbergius_, give the world an explanation of it, and with it put an end to my tale.
Every body knows of the grand system of Universal Monarchy, wrote by order of Mons. _Colbert_, and put in manuscript into the hands of _Lewis_ the fourteenth, in the year 1664.
’Tis as well known, that one branch out of many of that system, was the getting possession of _Strasburg_, to favour an entrance at all times into _Suabia_, in order to disturb the quiet of _Germany_——and that in consequence of this plan, _Strasburg_ unhappily fell at length into their hands.
It is the lot of a few to trace out the true springs of this and such like revolutions—The vulgar look too high for them—Statesmen look too low——Truth (for once) lies in the middle.
What a fatal thing is the popular pride of a free city! cries one historian—The _Strasburgers_ deemed it a diminution of their freedom to receive an imperial garrison——so fell a prey to a _French_ one.
The fate, says another, of the _Strasburgers_, may be a warning to all free people to save their money.——They anticipated their revenues——brought themselves under taxes, exhausted their strength, and in the end became so weak a people, they had not strength to keep their gates shut, and so the _French_ pushed them open.
Alas! alas! cries _Slawkenbergius_, ’twas not the _French_,——’twas CURIOSITY pushed them open——The _French_ indeed, who are ever upon the catch, when they saw the _Strasburgers_, men, women and children, all marched out to follow the stranger’s nose——each man followed his own, and marched in.
Trade and manufactures have decayed and gradually grown down ever since—but not from any cause which commercial heads have assigned; for it is owing to this only, that Noses have ever so run in their heads, that the _Strasburgers_ could not follow their business.